


Coercive Control

by spnfamilyhasasherlockinthetardis



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Child Abuse, George Washington is his long time foster dad, Samuel Seabury Jr. is the character from Hamilton, abuse is referenced not written, mental abuse is rampant, non explicit physical abuse, sams dad is in prison for beating him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 06:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11845857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnfamilyhasasherlockinthetardis/pseuds/spnfamilyhasasherlockinthetardis
Summary: All Samuel Seabury wants to do is go back to living with his dad, but as the years go by, it seems like something that's less and less likely to happen.





	Coercive Control

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a precursor/sneak peek at a fic that I'm currently writing. I hope you enjoy it, and keep your eyes out for the next one. :p
> 
> Have questions/want to interact? Message me at: I-am-a-blob-fish.tumblr.com

_A door slammed somewhere in the house, and Sam bolted upright in bed, his heart slamming like a jackhammer against his ribcage. He quickly looked over to his brother’s bed, whispering in an attempt to get his attention. “Caleb?”_  


# ~

This wasn’t the first, or the last time Sam Seabury would find himself in the waiting room of New Haven Correctional Center, sitting in a cold metal chair as he waited for his father to be allowed into the visitor’s area. That night was so long ago, and yet it was all that Sam could think about every time he was here. It played over and over in his mind, and it was almost a blessing when his father sat down heavily across from him.

Samuel Seabury Sr. was a heavyset man about the age of 40, although his sun kissed skin from years spent working outside made him look about 5 or 6 years older. His dark brown hair, although normally cropped just above his ears, was pulled back into a ponytail in an effort to remain presentable. He had a blossoming bruise on his cheek, as well as several other marks on the rest of his face and hands that proved his time in prison to be less than enjoyable. All of this, however, did not damper the shit-eating grin he seemed unable to wipe from his face; nor did he want to. He had everyone right where he wanted them.  


# ~

_“Always, always do as I say.” His dad chastised him, standing above Sam, who lay on the ground haphazardly. He wasn’t 100% sure how he had gotten on the ground, but he couldn’t help flinching when his father moved to pick him up. “I only want what’s best for you. Now go clean up your mess.” ___  


#  ~

Samuel Sr. had been in prison for a couple years now, and each and every visit with his son started out with the same couple words. **“I can not wait to get out of here.”** While his time in prison hadn’t the most cushiest of experiences, he always made it out to be worse than it was, no matter who he was talking to. He almost seemed to enjoy the look of guilt that passed over his son’s face every time he mentioned that he had been in another “fight”. Sam didn’t need to know that his father spent about an hour before their meetings making himself look worse for wear. All he needed to know was that his dad was still alive, and he wasn’t going to be free of him anytime soon.

Sam himself was dressed rather impeccably, his reddish brown hair freshly cut and styled back out of his face, and he was wearing what looked like a new blue and white checkered sweater vest, along with a white button-up and khaki pants. Someone might see him at a gas station and assume that he was on his way to some church service, but the reality was much harsher than that. His foster father had bought him the new outfit a couple weeks ago, and it had stayed in the box until this morning. Sam had wanted to impress his dad, and he didn’t have any newer or better looking outfits than this one. 

Sam straightened his back when his father sat down, jerking suddenly and thankfully out of his thoughts, a small smile appearing on his face. He pushed his glasses up on his nose before folding his hands on the table in front of him. He’d already laid out a stack of papers on the table before his dad arrived, and had been anxiously working his way through a bottle of water before Samuel Sr. sat down. Now, he was watching his father as he silently looked through the pile of homework, waiting for him to speak first. 

Instead of complimenting the good grades on top of his papers and tests, Samuel Sr. turned his sour gaze upon his young son, scanning him up and down as he looked for something to pick out. Finally his sourness turned into some kind of twisted smile as he finally found something. 

“I didn’t buy you that vest.” Samuel Sr. said flatly, and continued before Sam could explain himself. It didn't matter that he hadn't been able to buy his son new clothes in almost two years. “I can only assume that Mr. Washington bought it for you. He really cares about you… You know, it’s been a long time. I hope you’re not trying to replace your dear old Papa.” He asked, and Sam quickly shook his head, shifting in his seat as he tried to defend himself. 

“No-no, Papa, no. I hate it there. I hate him, he’s, ugh, he doesn’t really care. He just thinks buying me things will make me like him, or something. I told him not to buy the vest but he did it anyways.” He said, hoping that his father wouldn’t be too mad. “But I, you know, I thought- I know that it’s important to look nice, and make a good impression. And he did already buy it...” He said, hoping that maybe Samuel would let it slide, since he had fought against receiving the gift at all. 

It was deadly silent for a moment, and Sam became hyper-focused on his father’s fingers tapping on the table, and when they suddenly stopped it took him a couple seconds to focus on his father’s voice again. 

“.... right, Samuel.” His dad said, and Sam blinked a few times and leaned forward in an attempt to focus more. No matter how hard he fought against it, he couldn’t help disassociating when he was around the older man. “You’re old enough to get a job, nobody needs to be spoiling you anymore. You’re smart, so I don’t doubt that you’ll be able to find one by the time we meet again. And I expect you to keep up your grades without any trouble. Am I understood?” He finished, voice like a hammer on nails, and Sam nodded. He didn’t really want a job, knowing that he would only be burdened more by the work load. And his foster father probably wouldn’t let him get one anyways. 

“Good boy, Samuel. Any father would be proud to have you as their son. Well, most of the time. You really need to work on your stutter.” He said, and Sam’s face lit up with the praise, almost feeling energized. He was good, he was okay, he was doing a good job, he was okay. 

“I’m-I’m really trying, Papa! And I’ll get a job. And-and the lawyer, he said-” Sam’s ramblings, full of promises to continue doing a good job, were interrupted by his father’s hand slamming onto the metal table, reverberating throughout the room. Sam’s ears were jarred from it, and for a second he wondered if it had been him that was hit and not the table. He jumped in his chair as well, moving back away from him as he tried to calm down the beating in his chest. 

“Don’t talk about that! You don’t need to worry about the lawyer, or about me getting out of here. You’re not smart enough to understand it, and you’ll probably mess it up by being too.. Sensitive or stuttering or something.” He said, his lip twisting in anger, shaking his head and making a show of being disappointed. “All you need to worry about is keeping your grades up and getting a job. Do you understand?” He said, voice sharp, and it obviously took some effort to keep it lowered to an acceptable volume. 

Sam nodded meekly, not daring to say anything, keeping his eyes trained on the table and his hands in his lap, still taking quick scared breaths as he tried to calm down. It was obvious that he was on the verge of having a full scale panic attack, and he dug his nails into the palm of his hand in an attempt to calm down. 

# ~

_“Just close your eyes and hide under the blanket, alright?” Caleb whispered, crawling into Sam’s bed as quickly as he could and wrapping him in a protective hug, pulling the blanket over both of their heads in an attempt to block out the sound of their dad’s voice screaming at their mother from the living room. “Nothing can get to you, I promise.”_

# ~

“Mr. Washington, why is it that I can’t have one single conversation with my son without the government’s favorite watchdog hovering over him?” His dad’s voice cut through his thoughts, and even though he was now paying attention to what was happening around him, he didn’t move or acknowledge the newest presence next to him in the slightest. If he had been looking, he would have seen his father crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes. While Sam was too far gone to really have an emotion other than thankfulness that his father had shown up out of the blue, he normally would have been annoyed. He had a tendency to view these small increments of time with his father as precious, and he didn’t want Washington to ruin them.

George pulled up a chair despite knowing how unwelcome he must have been, sitting down next to Sam and putting an arm on the back of his chair, making sure not to touch him. It was enough that Sam knew he was there and that he wasn’t alone, and although George wanted to pick him up and carry him away and never come back, he knew that it had to be done this way. 

“I think if you could have a conversation without upsetting him, then we wouldn’t have a problem.” He said, keeping his voice as light as he could in a situation like this. “I’m sure that we don’t need to be reminded of the last time you…. Got out of hand.” He said, and a quick glance at Sam told him all he needed to know. It was time to leave, and to stop talking about this. 

“A misunderstanding. I’m sure that Samuel explained it to you.” He paused, looking over at his son with something akin to affection, if the older man was even capable of it. “He fell asleep and hit his face on the table, it happens all the time with teenagers. Especially when they don’t have the right guardianship.” He said, and his voice was light as well, even with the heavy topic they were discussing. 

“I think that it’s time to go.” He said, voice firm and directed at the man across from him, looking over at Sam and softening his tone as he continued. “Is that alright with you?” He asked, not wanting to force him into moving around when he wasn’t ready to. 

“What, are you going to force him to leave early? To cut his already precious hours with his Papa short?” Samuel asked, obviously upset, leaning forward in his chair and raising his voice. “I never get to see him, just let me have this. Samuel, please, stay.” He almost took on a begging tone, turning his gaze to his son. 

# ~

_Sam climbed the tree in his backyard, quickly trying to catch up with his much older brother, who was teasing him for not being able to tag him. They’d only been in the tree for a couple minutes before the back door opened and they both froze, listening to feet on the stairs. “Boys, it’s time to come inside and do homework, I’m counting to three.” Sam, still only on the first branch, quickly hopped down and ran inside, making it just in time. Caleb never seemed to make it on time._

# ~

George had spent a lot of time trying to help Sam learn how to work through his panic attacks, and he knew what it looked like when he wasn’t going to come down from one anytime soon; however, so did his father. And while Sam was used to someone knowing all of his ticks and issues, that didn’t mean he liked the feeling. 

He turned to face Sam fully, forcing a smile despite the fact that Sam wasn’t even willing to look at him. It was something that he was used to, even when his foster child was calm. Sam seemed to be the dictionary definition of an angsty teen, fighting George on everything he could. But George hadn’t decided to become a foster parent because it was easy, and he didn’t make a habit of giving up on something once he’d started. “It’s time to get going anyways, Sam. We’re going to be late picking up your brother soon.” He said, standing and smoothing a hand over Sam’s shoulders, before shoving both of his own hands in his pockets ashamedly when Sam practically jerked away. Despite the movement, however, Sam stood, giving his dad a quick apologetic smile.

Samuel stood as well, taking a step towards Sam as if to hug him. He was obviously still angry that they were leaving, and it showed in the way his jaw was clenched. George was very quick to step between them, putting a hand on Samuel Sr.’s chest. He wouldn’t dare hurt Sam in front of George, but that didn’t mean George was just going to let the other man touch his foster child. It was all just a show, of course, to upset Washington. Samuel Sr. had never been a fan of hugging, but he was a fan of making the man who took away his child angry. 

“Absolutely not. Even if the court allowed it.” George said, quietly enough that he thought Sam couldn’t hear, face deadly serious.  
Samuel stepped back, pushing George’s hand away, and Sam peeked around his caretaker’s shoulder, biting his lip nervously. His cheeks were still coming back from the shade of ghostly white they had been earlier. 

“I’m sorry, Papa. I love you.” He said softly, giving him a gentle wave as his foster father maneuvered him gently towards the door. He felt a little guilty, like he always did when they had to turn around and leave his father behind. Sam was worried that one day he’d show up only to find that his father had been let out or killed in his cell or something like that, leaving Sam all alone. 

# ~

_The front door slammed shut, almost clipping Caleb’s heels, as if saying one last goodbye. Sam would get used to being alone. ___  


# ~

As soon as they made it into the car, George let out a sigh, leaning back against the seat. “I’m really sorry that that happened.” He said, turning to look at Sam, only to find him unresponsive and staring out the window. “I mean, I’m sorry that I couldn’t get you out of there sooner.” 

“He didn’t even do anything wrong, you’re just jealous that I like him better.” Sam retorted, and George couldn’t help how much that hurt. He thought that maybe he’d gotten somewhere with his foster son, but it was obvious that his work was going thankless as usual. “I don’t get why I can’t hang out with him for as long as I want. It’s not like he’d even do anything anyways.” 

George sighed, running a hand over his face and putting the car in drive, not looking at him as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the busy highway. This was an argument that they’d had many times. “Sam, you know why. I don’t have to remind you; and I don’t want to.” He said, voice soft. A quick glance at Sam, despite the traffic, proved to be more painful than it was helpful, watching as he reached up and skimmed his fingers over one of the scars that arched just above his collar, the skin twisted and painful-looking, and he seemed to wince almost from the memory. He’d hardly ever shown any part of his skin since George had known him, making sure to wear hoods and jeans, even in the summer. He knew that most of them were from his father, but it was no secret that he’d been stuck in some scary foster homes before coming to George’s house. George quickly looked away, not wanting to think about it, trying not to stare as he turned a corner. 


End file.
